


Beautiful & Deadly

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Consensual Non-Consent, Crack Treated Seriously, Credence Barebone Learning Magic, Credence's POV, Crushes, Heavy Angst, M/M, Manipulative Gellert Grindelwald, Mild Internalized Homophobia, Mutual Pining, Office Sex, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Religious Guilt, but grindelwald sure did, credence is not an obscurial and newt never came to new york, intern credence, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Credence ends up working for the Director of Magical Security and along the way, develops inconvenient feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdygaycas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdygaycas/gifts).



> inspired by this:  
> http://magnuzbane.tumblr.com/post/158276212419  
> and mto-art's bearded graves comes into play.

It had all happened very fast.

One minute he was standing outside the impressive building, and trying futilely to hand out leaflets, and the next thing he knew someone had shoved past him and almost knocked him to the ground, shoulder hitting his own, throwing him off balance.

He’d caught himself on the hard unforgiving pavement, and winced as he scraped his hands.

When he got back up to his feet, the silence was eerie, like he’d accidentally stumbled into a cemetery.

He blinked.

There was a silvery sheen to the air in front of him, and he reached out to touch it, and felt a wave of heat kiss his skin.

It hurt against his bleeding palms.

“Hey, you there, what are doing…?”

A voice not nearly as shrill as his ma’s was clearly addressing him, and he turned, hunched over, prepared for a slap, only to find a woman with dark brown hair, too short for a lady to wear, his ma would have said, and dressed smartly in a navy blue suit.

“I just… tripped ma’am, I apologize if I’m in your way.”

“No, not at all… you just, shouldn’t be able to see me, er…”

She put her hand to her face, considering him, and he gulped, fearing the worst.

Trespassing was a crime against the lord’s man made laws, and he didn’t even know how he had done it. The sidewalk was fair game, but somehow he’d moved onto the bank property.

“Please, don’t call the police, I’ll leave and never come back, I swear.”

“No! Wait…”

Another wave of warmth washed over him, pushing away the cold, and Credence felt a hand on his arm, gentle, and squeezing slightly,

“You’re not like the others… you can see me, see this building…what’s your name?”

Credence barely stuttered out his surname and saw the woman’s eyes widen as the hand on his arm tightened, but not very painfully so.

*

Things moved even faster after that, and the next thing he knew he was being directed to the office of someone called Mister Graves, Director of Magical Security.

He’d stumbled into a den of witches, and he knew ma would not be pleased. But the woman who’d found him, Miss Tina, was so kind, and not at all like he’d imagined a witch to be, he couldn’t say no to anything she said.

“Here he is Mister Graves.”

Credence stopped short, frozen, staring at the man behind an imposing desk, strewn with papers and shining instruments that looked as if they belonged in a dentist or doctor’s office.

“Thank you Tina. Please, sit down Mister Barebone.”

His hands came together in front of his chest, and he winced as he became aware of the cuts and scrapes again. All while Miss Tina had been escorting him around the inside of the building, which still to him resembled a bank more than anything, but for the lack of tellers, he had completely forgotten he’d hurt himself.

“Oh, what’s wrong?”

Credence blinked rapidly and looked up to find the man standing, leaning over his desk, and eyeing him with concern.

“N-nothing sir.”

“Come now, show me.”

Powerless to refuse the man, Credence held out his hands, palms up, and he heard the man inhale sharply.

“How did this happen?”

The shock of contact from the man’s hand taking one of his own rendered him speechless a moment, so that his first instinct to reply of  _ ‘I’m a clumsy oaf’  _ melted away, and he could only watch, slack jawed, as one of the man’s thumbs rubbed across his palm, wiping away the blood and erasing the pain just as swiftly.

That had to be magic, truly.

“I fell… outside, sir.”

Credence finally managed, and the man sighed,

“Of course. Right through the no maj barrier.”

“The what?”

Credence had heard Miss Tina say the term several times, but she’d never explained it completely.

The man, Mister Graves, Credence remembered, clicked his tongue and took his other hand in his, healing the second set of cuts almost immediately.

“Yes, well you aren’t one. You have latent magic of your own. It’s why you could see our building for what it was, and the deflection charms weren’t working to disguise it from you. You’re very special. Did Tina tell you that you’ll be assisting me?”

Credence nodded.

“She called it, interning?”

Mister Graves nodded.

“Precisely. Consider it my way of apology for the lack of an Ilvermorny letter. You should have received one many years ago. You’re what, eighteen?”

Ignoring the second unfamiliar term, Credence shook his head,

“No sir. I’ll be twenty-one in the fall.”

“Good thing you’re one of us. You’ll be able to experience the wonders of alcohol thanks to the lifting of Prohibition among our kind.”

He winked at Credence and he felt his stomach drop to around his toes.

“Now, why don’t you run along to see Tina, and tell her I requested my afternoon tea?”

*

It began to turn into a new sort of routine. Wake up, feed the orphans breakfast, gather his pamphlets, and report to the front of the big building, labeled ‘ _ Woolworth’ _ to anyone else, but with the shining golden seal reading ‘MACUSA’ to Credence, exactly at eight in the morning, to be ushered inside by a strange sort of creature Miss Tina had called a staff elf.

Mister Graves needed coffee upon Credence’s arrival, and had tea before lunch, along with another cup just before he left for the day, always ensuring the pamphlets he’d brought were vanished, and his heart lightened a bit from just that act of kindness.

Working beside the man sometimes meant taking notes, or filing reports, and he learned about the various departments, who did different things for all the magical people in New York.

Mister Graves never mentioned exact numbers, but Credence suspected there were far more witches than his ma had ever imagined in her wildest dreams, or nightmares rather.

One day he accidentally spoke to the man and said something about that, how he’d never thought he’d turn out to be a witch, and he saw a hint of a smile on the man’s face.

“Credence, my boy, you’re not a witch. You’re a wizard. Late blooming, but nonetheless a  _ wizard _ . ‘Witches’ are ladies.”

“Oh.”

He felt his cheeks burning, and he hunched upon himself, for the first time in what had to be days, wondering if he’d be hurt with magic for the vocal misstep, but no pain followed.

“Pass me that file would you?”

Credence blinked, and dared to look over at the man, finding him studying a sheaf of papers in his hand, and not even looking at him.

“Yes sir.”

He moved from his chair to approach the man, extending the file folder gingerly, still anticipating some sort of critique, but Mister Graves simply plucked it from his hand and thanked him in a soft murmur.

He swallowed, and then retreated back to his corner of the room, watching carefully.

Mister Graves worked with a quiet and intense efficiency that Credence aspired to someday, though still unsure what he would do, for a career, considering the upheaval that had come upon his life so recently.

Miss Tina had given him a leaflet of his own to study, with different programs he could attend if and when he felt ready to truly join the magical world, a sort of university, and he’d taken it and been almost speechless. He kept it tucked into his left sock, lest anyone accidentally come upon it in his room.

It never left his person.

*

Staring at Mister Graves turned into a shameful habit, and Credence had started to learn how to mask his features, tame his blushing, and come up with excuses, but never lies, to speak to the man about little unimportant things, just to hear his voice.

He was truly the most attractive man Credence had ever known, and each day, he found himself letting his gaze linger longer and longer, until he was certain the man would be able to  _ feel _ the weight of it.

He passed by Miss Queenie in the hallway, laden with the tray containing Mister Graves’ mid-afternoon tea, and couldn’t help thinking about the way the man had said good morning to him.

His suit was sharp as ever that day, and he’d done something different with the part of his hair. He’d looked incredible. Of course, Mister Graves looked that way every day.

Miss Queenie giggled, and he almost tripped while trying to turn and look at her, as she waited beside the elevator, perhaps going to visit her sister down in the wand permit office.

“Hey honey. Make sure to tell him that, someday. He’d appreciate it, or not know what to say.”

She winked at him, but was already vanishing behind the closing gate.

Credence felt his blood run cold.

Had she been reading his thoughts?

Magic could do most anything, he knew that now, but was that possible?

When he returned to Mister Graves’ office and started to serve him his tea, he let his eyes drag over the line of the man’s jaw, and down to the edge of his starched collar. He wore very distinctive pins there, black scorpions sparkled with green emeralds, and led one’s gaze naturally down to the red lining of his jacket lapels.

Mister Graves dressed very smartly.

But sometimes, late, late at night, Credence would dare to let himself wonder what the man looked like  _ underneath _ the well tailored clothing, and he’d lose himself in the pictures in his mind, cobbled together from forbidden magazines he’d stumbled upon and the wilds of his imagination.

“Credence?”

He blinked.

He’d missed something the man had said, trying to drown himself in the stitching on his jacket seams.

“Are you alright Credence? Have you been getting enough rest? You look a bit… lost in thought.”

A hand was burning over his wrist, the man’s rough calloused thumb rubbing over the back of his knuckles, and he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“Y-yes of course Mister Graves. I apologize. I was just… admiring your collar pins.”

The man leaned back, his touch instantly missed by Credence, as he picked up his teacup instead of continuing to hold his attention. But the man  _ always _ had his attention, he just didn’t know it.

“Thank you my boy. They were a gift from my father upon my being awarded this position of authority. He said they would serve as a proper reminder of how life is both beautiful and deadly.”

Mister Graves sipped at his tea, and his steady gaze remained on Credence for a long moment, before dropping away, back to the stacks of papers on his desk.

He nodded.

“Yes sir. That’s very wise.”

“Something your mother would approve of yes, recognizing our own mortality?”

Mister Graves was smiling as he set his tea cup down, and Credence was stuck on watching that, the curve of the man’s lip, and his heart skipped a beat when it quirked further.

“Maybe sir. Though she doesn’t trust witches.”

“I think that’s putting it mildly Credence. I’ve skimmed some of your fliers.”

His eyes widened, and he hastened to apologize further, but the man brought his hand to his mouth, shushing him gently,

“Not at all your fault my boy. I’m just saying, perhaps that home life isn’t conducive to you, with where you are now… learning about your powers… hmm?”

Credence was nodding along before he could stop himself.

“But… where can I go, I’ve lived with ma as long as I can remember…”

“I gave Tina the project of narrowing down your lineage, and seeing if there’s any chance at all you might have living relatives who aren’t completely incompetent, so I assure you, if they still exist, we’ll find them.”

Credence nodded again, breathless and unsure how to express his gratitude beyond the impossibility that he wanted, which was to fling himself forward into the man’s arms for a hug.

“You should be able to sleep somewhere safe, not worry about where your next meal will come from, that sort of thing. I certainly hope they’re feeding you enough here.”

Mister Graves held his stare for longer than necessary, and Credence nodded at once.

“Oh yes sir. It’s wonderful, the food that the cafeteria serves.”

The man snorted,

“I don’t know about that, but I suppose…” He paused, his gaze dipped down below Credence’s shoulders to his chest and waist before it rose back up again, and it took every ounce of his self control to keep his cheeks from heating, “You look a great deal less malnourished than when we first met.”

*

That night in his bed, Credence fought with himself to keep from putting meaning to the man’s words that simply hadn’t been there. He wasn’t actually interested.

Credence might not have been emaciated and hollow cheeked, but he was still ugly and his haircut was awful and no man like Mister Graves would want an _ invert  _ like him.

Ever.

Ma didn’t let him partake in the shared breakfast with the rest of the orphans the next morning, but he didn’t care, he had morning coffee with Mister Graves to look forward to, usually with a biscuit and jelly or a bagel with cream cheese to accompany it.

He arrived at the MACUSA building a bit earlier than normal, but he’d needed out of the church, couldn’t stand to hear any more of ma’s poison than he had to, and Red let him up to Mister Graves’ office without so much as a question, beyond a greeting.

He knocked on the door, wondering if the man would be there, and it swung inwards rather dramatically, revealing Mister Graves sitting behind his desk, hands folded in front of him. Usually he would open the door himself, and say his good morning, before moving aside for Credence to set his things down and then go run to retrieve the coffee tray.

“Hello. You look nice this morning.”

Credence was surprised at such a compliment, and he ducked his head before he could stop himself, mumbling in reply,

“Thank you sir. So do you.”

“Aren’t you sweet? Come here my boy.”

“D-don’t you want your coffee sir?”

Credence stammered, hands automatically undoing his bag to place it on his chair, while his feet took him over to the man’s side almost at once.

Mister Graves was sitting with his legs open, as if inviting someone to sit there, as well as look at his lap, and he had to force his eyes back to the man’s own dark gaze.

“Yes of course, but first, tell me, why do we let you run around this place dressed like you’re attending a funeral? I love black as much as the next man, but… it’s a little dreary, now that I look at you.”

Credence blinked,

“Sir?”

Mister Graves raised a hand and flicked his fingers, which he often did, without needing the use of his wand to perform magic, as he’d explained to Credence a few times, and he could feel something tingling over his skin.

It was a ghostly touch, and he could feel his heartbeat thundering in his ears as the images from the previous night flooded forward again.

His breath caught in his chest when he held up his hands and saw his threadbare jacket had transformed into a sage green one made of gorgeous wool, and all the way down to his shoes he wore finery he’d never even dreamed of.

“Mister Graves, sir, I can’t…”

“Shh-hh. Nonsense. You look exceedingly better now. No assistant of mine needs to apologize for looking their best. Now, you may fetch the coffee.”

Miss Tina and Miss Queenie didn’t say anything about his change in attire, but he swore he could feel eyes on him all day.

He was more frightened of what ma would say, and he spoke to Mister Graves, to voice his concerns, and the man merely chuckled.

“Very well. I’ll ensure she won’t notice it. She cannot see magic, correct? So it will appear as your usual clothing, to her.”

“Thank you again sir.”

“You’re welcome, dear boy.”

He didn’t imagine the way the man’s eyes dragged over him that time, not stopping politely at his belt, but venturing lower, until he was certain his entire body had been scanned.

Instead of merely saying goodbye to Credence at the front of the building before the man would then vanish in a swirl and snap, Mister Graves kept walking with him, through the magical barrier and out onto the street.

“Sir, did I do something---”

A strong hand was gripping his arm, almost yanking him sideways, threatening to topple to the ground, until he realized Mister Graves was pressing him against the brick wall of a nearby alleyway, and aligning his hips into Credence’s own.

Breathing was less than important when he could feel the man’s strength radiating off of him, and swore he could taste his magical aura from how close they stood to each other.

“How long?”

“Sir?”

Mister Graves was so near, he could close his eyes and inhale deeply only to be overwhelmed by the spice and smoke that was the man’s cologne, and it made heat begin to curl at the base of his spine.

“How long have you wanted this?”

Credence fairly squeaked as he felt the man’s hand drop from his arm to grasp at his waist, before he forcibly ground his hips against his own with purpose, and there was no mistaking it, the man was hard, and would surely know soon enough he was achingly so as well.

“You want me, don’t you, my boy?”

Credence nodded frantically, and licked his lips before he could stop himself, only to feel the man lean in, and nip at the side of his neck, making his knees grow weak.

“Oh god.”

“You’re delicious, walking around my office and playing coy when all you really want is to beg for me to bend you over my desk, isn’t that right?”

Credence let out a whimper, unsure how such a thing could be possible, beyond the boundaries of what was clearly labeled as sodomy, and Mister Graves thrust closer, the cold brick at his back almost biting into his jacket and shoulders.

“I could eat you up, you know that?”

Another kiss to his neck, on the verge of painful, before the man pulled back, and locked eyes with him, finding Credence staring with pure want right at him, he moved forward, slotting their mouths together, taking the willingly offered first kiss.

Credence had been dreaming and sinfully fantasizing of such a moment for days and almost weeks, but he could still scarcely believe it was happening.

The man continued to hold him tight to the wall, until he was almost desperate to beg for him to touch Credence, entirely lost in sensation, yet needing permission to voice his desire for more.

“Promise you’ll think of me when you touch yourself tonight… hmm?”

Credence blinked and tried to focus on the man’s face, but all he could see was a smirk, and then nothing was holding him, just a faint breeze drifting through the alleyway, as Mister Graves vanished.

*

Breakfast now meant coffee and Credence being pulled into Mister Graves’ arms for a morning greeting of a kiss or two or three. He didn’t know enough about what the man was currently working on to say if it meant getting behind on things in favor of being distracted by him.

“Tell me, what have you done before?”

Mister Graves’ thumb was pressing to his bottom lip, dipping just the pad inside his mouth for him to lick, and he gulped.

“Nothing beyond this ever sir.”

“That kiss in that alley was your first?”

Credence nodded slowly, and the man’s mouth curved into a smile,

“Oh dear boy, how wonderful. You did so well. I can teach you so much you know.”

“Shouldn’t we be working? What if someone comes in?”

“What I do on my own time is my business.”

“But this is work time…”

“Shh-hh.”

The man’s finger dragged from his lips to caress his jawline, and then his hand wrapped around the back of his neck, tilting Credence’s head slightly, so that he could press closer and kiss his neck,

“Mister Graves, are you sure…”

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the attention, he loved it, craved it even, but he couldn’t help the sense of  _ wrongness _ that tinged every moment they spent doing anything of the sort. Ma’s words rang in his ears and her near constant demand for his belt for a myriad of sins she seemed to believe he’d committed were beginning to wear on him. Miss Tina caught up with him that afternoon in the hallway and didn’t quite point out that he was looking tired and worn, but mentioned he could stay with her and Miss Queenie if he ever wanted to, or needed to.

He knew she was good and kind but Mister Graves had told him to be wary of anyone who might steal him away without his awareness.

‘Magic could do a great many things, good and bad,’ the man had told him one afternoon, before nudging him down to kneel at his feet, a hand gentle at the nape of his neck, before fingers slipped into his hair, and guided him closer, directing him as how best to put the man’s cock into his mouth.

Words of praise usually reserved for the lord above spilled from Mister Graves’ lips, moments before Credence felt the warmth burning inside his stomach spiral downward, and he gripped the meat of the man’s thighs to keep from attempting to cry out against the length down his throat, swallowing carefully when he felt the man withdraw, his cock still spurting on his tongue.

“Such a good boy. So perfect for me.”

“Thank you sir.”

Credence managed to rasp out, and the hand pulled him forward and up, so that he was perched atop the man’s legs, and magic undid his trousers, revealing his achingly hard length.

“Beautiful. Tomorrow I’ll take you on my desk, how’s that sound?”

“Yes, please, Mister Graves.”

His voice broke when the man’s rough palm met his sensitive skin, tugging his orgasm from him with barely any effort, and he buried his face in the man’s neck as he jerked his hips helplessly, ruining the man’s vest and sleeve with his release.

*

The morning he arrived to find a cluster of witches and wizards in the main atrium he was not concerned, he merely nodded and smiled as politely as he could, until he recognized Miss Queenie, and she waved at him.

“Miss Queenie? What’s the matter?”

Her bright blue eyes were wide and her always pink lips met in a thin line,

“Oh honey, didn’t you know? It’s your boss. Mister Graves has been attacked.”

It was rather like the floor fell out from under him, and his knees had given out.

She didn’t catch him with her hands, but a gentle touch of magic, and he fought to breathe steady.

“What?”

“Come on, let’s go to Teenie’s office. She’s in with the President right now.”

Miss Queenie explained as best she could, and Credence was back to wringing his hands and avoiding eye contact. Nightmares were real, and magic so powerful one could steal someone’s life and face and wear it like a mask existed.

For almost two weeks, Mister Graves had been kept prisoner, and a dangerous man named Grindelwald had been pretending to be him.

Credence felt more than sick, he was shaking with dread, as icy cold fingers of panic slid down his spine. How had he not noticed?

Something had to have been different, but he’d been too distracted by the simple fact of the man reaching out, closing the distance between them, finally making him feel just as wanted in return…

Oh.

Oh  _ no _ .

Counting the days backwards in his head, it made a horrible sense. The alleyway.

The world had tilted on its axis for the second time in Credence’s life that day, and it was with an awful jolt that he realized, it  _ had never been Mister Graves. _

He wanted to throw up, and he felt the urge to rip off his own skin, everywhere the man had touched him.

“Honey, no. Don’t think like that. It’s not your fault at all.”

Miss Queenie was touching his arm, cautiously, and he blinked as tears stung hotly down his cheeks, looking up to find her blurry.

“How do you do that?”

She gasped,

“Oh honey I’m sorry, I thought Teenie had told you. I’m a legilimens. I can read mind if people aren’t careful enough to block me out. You being untrained and all, well, I can’t help it. You think so loudly sometimes.”

Credence buried his face in his hands, and tried to stop crying, but it was impossible.

“I just… I can’t believe…”

Miss Queenie let out a gasp, and he knew she had to be seeing his regrets, his sins, all that the man had put him through.

“He molested you in his office? The nerve of him… why, if Mister Graves knew, I think he’d likely kill him with his bare hands.”

That gave Credence pause, and he lifted his head up to look at her,

“Why?”

He didn’t care, didn’t even seem to notice how much he’d been yearning for him, but the imposter had, so it was obvious enough… right?

“No honey… it’s not that he doesn’t care. He just is so professional, he has a very important position. He would  _ never _ compromise it for the sake of something like a personal attachment. You aren’t the first one to fall for him.”

The sad sort of way she smiled made Credence wonder if  _ she  _ might have… before she gave him a slight nod.

Credence felt his cheeks heat.

She was still looking right into his head.

“Will he be back?”

Miss Queenie nodded,

“Oh yes. Before we know it I’m sure. He’s a bit stubborn… and he’ll be quite upset. The President will probably have to give him a few weeks vacation, that he’ll likely never use. He’s that sort of man.”

She smiled a bit brighter, and Credence just nodded.

That night he went to bed and prayed for the first time in weeks, even though he wasn’t sure if the lord would listen to the plight of a magical abomination.

*

There was no formal announcement when Mister Graves came back to MACUSA, but Credence was told by Red in the elevator that he wouldn’t be going to work with Miss Tina that day, as the Director was in need of his services again.

“Oh.”

The swooshing sound of the doors made his stomach clench, and his feet seemed to drag every step of the way, until he was standing outside of the office door with the smaller silver version of the MACUSA seal, trying to muster the strength to knock.

As it happened, he didn’t need to, for the door was swinging open already, revealing a very different looking Mister Graves.

His handsome face was half hidden behind a full beard, and his dark eyes looked sadder and more tired than Credence had ever thought possible.

He moved like he had a still healing broken rib, and he seemed to favor his left leg.

“Credence… I didn’t think you would… please, come in.”

It was almost unfair, how the man managed to look so good looking still, enough to make Credence startle and stumble forward upon being addressed, and he merely clung to his messenger bag to have something to do, before taking his usual seat.

“How are you fe-”

The question was cut off by a look the man threw him, heavier than any words could be, and he clamped his mouth shut, nodding, feeling as stupid as he was sure he looked.

“Credence. I cannot tell you how sorry I am for what you went through at the hands of that… monster.”

Credence’s eyes snapped back up from the edge of the man’s desk which he’d chosen to focus on instead of the salt and pepper of the man’s beard, and realized how much he ached to be held close again, wanting to feel the scratch of it against his neck and taste another kiss…

“No… don’t be. I… wanted it.”

Mister Graves’ dark eyes closed, and he put a hand to his temples,

“Mercy lewis, what did he do to you… to make you say that?”

Credence felt something like righteous anger beginning to curdle inside of him, and he choked on the words as he lurched forward,

“Mister Graves, he never did anything I didn’t like.”

The man looked up in surprise, finding him almost perched on his desk, and Credence instantly shrank back, but there was a hand on his wrist, bracing like iron,

“What do you mean? You were… okay with him taking advantage of you, because he looked like me?”

Credence swallowed,

“I thought it  _ was _ you. I thought you had the same feelings for me as I did for you…”

He suddenly felt very small, and foolish, and something horribly like tears started to sting at his eyes.

Mister Graves’ thumb was pressing into the underside of his wrist, a firm pressure that grounded him somewhat,

“What kind of feelings?”

“Impure ones.”

Mister Graves inhaled sharply, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, the blackness of his pupils almost overtaking the brown,

“Credence, tell me, please.”

He found himself leaning forward as if somehow, the man still held the center of gravity, and pulled on subtle invisible strings to guide him closer.

“Couldn’t you tell by the prolonged glances, and the way I thought so loudly… Miss Queenie says it was painfully obvious.”

“I… what? No, Credence, I don’t actively try and read your mind. That would be rude. Queenie does it because she has no way to turn it off. As for the glances, I thought nothing of it, I mean, everyone does that. I probably looked at you more than I should, after all, I am technically your boss…”

Credence nodded.

“So when I want you to push me into a wall and kiss me, you want nothing similar.”

The hand on his wrist tugged swiftly, and he nearly fell into Mister Graves’ arms and onto his lap, his own hands braced on the man’s chest, as he panted in shock.

“My boy, I would like nothing more, but I never had any intention of simply… taking you. You deserve flowers, and dinners, you deserve to be  _ wooed _ .”

“B-but you  _ do _ like me?”

Mister Graves lifted a hand to cup his cheek, and the hold was so tender it brought forth the tears that had been threatening moments before, only to be wiped away by the man’s thumb.

“Credence,  _ my boy _ , I was enchanted from the moment I saw you.”

He put his hands up to grasp at the man’s jacket lapels, and was very nearly kissing him, as he whispered,

“Mister Graves, please.”

His eyes fluttered closed as the man pulled him the final inch as their lips met, he melted into his embrace, feeling the tickling of the man’s beard on his face, and when he unconsciously ground his hips down, he heard Mister Graves let out a groan.

“Mercy lewis, you’re going to kill me.”

The man’s other hand was at his waist, and it tightened just slightly, as the one on his face remained steady, careful, and Credence smiled against the kiss.

“Only with kindness.”

 


End file.
